discovering ice
yesterday, i read an article about Gabriel Garcia Marquez in the New York Times Magazine. before reading the article, i sat with tea at my kitchen table in the morning, staring at the rather stoic photo of him that accompanies the piece. i found myself having difficulty associating the photo of this human with his art. it wasn't him necessarily, but rather the concept, or reality if you will, that any human was capable of creating something so circular and eternal and breathtakingly spectacular, as one hundred years of solitude. i feel as though i could read that book every year of my life until the curtain at long last falls, and i would never truly unveil all of the magic and mystery and purpose that lies therein.
i recall well, living in a slanted room in a bad neighborhood of New York, where i had tacked a small newspaper clipping of Pablo Picasso to my wall. at some point i awoke one morning, and sat looking at this photo completely bewildered; the scope of his genius unimaginable. i rose, removed the clipping from my wall, and left the tilting room behind in searh of humans. i needed to see people out there walking around aimlessly, going from place to place, drinking coffee. i needed to see the steam from their breath to remember that we are all here, taking oxygen in and out. i couldn't quite wrap myself around the degree to which human existence can be limitless; that in our art we can fly.
and yesterday was much the same. i sat in my kitchen in silence, watching birds drift back and forth between the trees, and the squirrels running nuts. i stood, put my shoes on my feet, and went out into the world. cars and wind and children in the street playing imaginary games. thoughts of children long ago, discovering ice for the first time. a gypsy with a magic carpet, and a soul full of infinity. a book that has in so many ways, changed literature forever.
sometimes, certain people are eternal before they even arrive.
Posted by jeff pitcher at November 5, 2003 09:02 AM
....................................
it's supposed to rain tomorrow. i'm not much of a small talker on weather, but there's something about rain. it's as if the earth is being cleansed. impurities washed away. a clean slate. a new start. a second chance.
droplets collecting, beading down, conforming to one’s silhouette. alive. in each other's company, sipping tea.
Posted by: Brina at November 6, 2003 12:28 PM
After reading Andrea's post on the Superhero Journal today, I thought I would drop by to check out your site. I'm so glad I did. Listening to you talk about Marquez put me right into Andrea's shoes at the clothing store where you met. Much like her, you've struck a chord with me and said things out of my own mind. I just read "One Hundred Years of Solitude" for the first time this past summer and it has immediately become one of my favourite books. Aside from that, the other thoughts you've shared today reminded me of something I hadn't completely forgotten, but hadn't thought of in a while. Thank you for that. Perhaps one day I will be lucky enough to meet you through some random twist of fate causing our paths to cross. Until then, I will be back to read your journal again. Thanks.
Amy
Posted by: Amy at November 7, 2003 02:07 PM
García Marquez is great. I love Cien años de soledad too :)
Posted by: Nadine at November 12, 2003 07:16 AM
wine comes in at the mouth
love comes in at the eye
thats all we need know of love
before we grow old and die.
(yeats, of course.)
works, no? applicable.
Posted by: me at November 21, 2003 04:17 AM
